


They're Not Dating

by YouRunWithTheWolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, tough love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:50:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouRunWithTheWolves/pseuds/YouRunWithTheWolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody reacts differently to Stiles and Derek being a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They're Not Dating

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write small stories about the gang and their interactions with DerekandStiles when they're not busy battling mythical creatures, so there are no supernatural elements in this. Just imagine them almost dying between each section.
> 
> Ideally takes place after season 2 or 3, I don't know. Erica is still alive, but that's just because I like her.

After three months of... _Derek_ , Stiles decides it's time to tell his father about them. It goes like this.

His dad laughs. Then yells when he realizes Stiles is not actually joking. There are threats involved. He paces back and forth in the kitchen, then sits down heavily on a chair, then gets back up, then sits back down.

“You're grounded, forever.”

“You're not allowed out of this house.”

“You can't see him anymore.”

“Why Derek Hale?”

“He's too old.”

“I'm gonna kill you, and then I'm gonna kill him.”

“Did Scott know about this?”

“I'm gonna kill Scott too.”

There are a lot of sighs and frustrated groans and hands rubbing his face. After a while, when Stiles is sure his dad is finished, he allows himself to let a shaky breath out of his mouth.

“Okay, but, seriously, are we cool?” Stiles asks.

“Cool? Cool? We're not cool, we'll never be cool. This, this is the opposite of cool!” The Sheriff answers disbelievingly.

“I'm... not really going to stop seeing him, you know that, right?”

His father sighs a long suffering sigh and whispers, “I know,” before seemingly coming back to mother hen mode again, getting up and thundering “the two of you better be safe, I swear to God, Stiles, I will hunt you down and strangle you myself if –”

“Dad, we're not having sex!” Stiles interrupts him by slapping a hand to his mouth and gesticulating wildly with the other. “No sex. None.” His father makes a noise against his hand that suspiciously sounds like “thank fuck”, but Stiles is on a roll. “Very sadly, no sex. And he's the one who doesn't even want to, alright? Cause I'm like, one hundred percent on board with it –” his father widens his eyes and makes an indignant sound, “but he's the one who wants to wait, alright? He's being a real gentleman. And a real jerk too, but –”. His father finally wrenches his face away from his grip and cuts him off.

“Shut up! I don't – enough!” he sits back down and Stiles imitates him. This is going so much better than he thought it would.

“He was accused of murder,” the Sheriff says like he's revealing a conspiracy plot to his son.

“I know! I was the one to accuse him,” Stiles exclaims with a tentative smile. “Water under the bridge dad, water under the bridge. I made a mistake. And he was totally innocent.”

The sheriff looks at him for a long time, and Stiles doesn't really like his new silent version of a father. He can deal with disappointment, anger, frustration, sadness, but plain silence is just not normal. He goes around the table to sit next to him, and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, I know you think I'm making a mistake or whatever...”

His dad sighs.

“But... Derek is my mistake to make,” he finally says, squeezing his shoulder. “I promise you on everything I love, you can shower me with ' _I told you so_ 's and ' _Next time you'll do as I say_ 's if he breaks my heart, or turns out to be a serial killer, or something.”

“I'll hold you up to that promise, son.”

“Okay.”

A moment passes. He can't believe he actually told his father. This is official. Can he take it all back?

“Why would Derek even want to date you, Jesus Christ.”

“Wha – excuse me dad, that's just rude. I am awesome! And we're not dating.”

The Sheriff goes on like he didn't hear Stiles, “I mean, there's gotta be something wrong with the man, you're a teenager, that's just not normal,” before realizing what his son just said. “Wha – what do you mean you're not dating? What do you call that?”

Stiles winces. He doesn't know how to make his dad understand how little the age difference matters, how stupid it seems compared to all the stuff they've been through, and how supremely strange it sounds to say they're _dating_. But he figures one truth bomb is enough for one day. He'll save the werewolf stuff for another month. Maybe another year, even.

“I'm not a kid anymore, dad. And I don't think he grew up much since his whole family burned in a fire, anyway” he says in what he likes to think is a soothing voice, deliberately ignoring the dating question. His dad just frowns.

“Are you pulling the ' _oh, he's a poor orphan_ ' on me? Cause it ain't working.”

“No, Jesus! What I mean is... he's not acting, uh, his age. Y'know?”

Blank look from his father.

“Ugh, dad, he's just really young... mentally. I am the adult in the... uh, relationship okay? And that should mean something to you, because I'm still super happy to find the toy in my cereal box. He's stupid, and snarky and childish and –”

“Alright, alright... okay.”

“Okay?”

“Well, not _okay_ okay, but yeah. Okay.”

Stiles stares at him before blurting out, “I have no idea what that means, are we okay or not?”

His dad gets up and makes his way out of the room.

“I am still mad. And I am still processing all this. And you're still grounded forever. And this conversation is not over. But... I am tired and I am going to sleep. Hopefully this has all been a very bad dream and I'll wake up soon?”

He pauses on the threshold.

“I don't want you to think I don't love you anymore, though. Because I do.”

Stiles feels his throat burning. He wants to say that he knows, but he doesn't trust his voice right now.

“I don't care that he's... a man. I care about you and only you. I love you.”

“Dad...”

“Yes, yes, you love me too. Now go up to your room.”

Stiles smiles and scrambles past his father before briefly resting his head on his shoulder like he did when he was a kid. He runs up the stairs, closes the door, flops heavily on his bed and finally sighs the sigh of relief he's been holding in for hours. When he's sure his dad is asleep, he picks up his phone and calls Derek.

“So?” Derek immediately asks, like it's an appropriate way of answering the phone.

“He's mad. He loves me. He hates you. He hates Scott. He's okay. That went well.”

He can hear Derek take deep breaths at the other end of the line.

“Should I be expecting him soon? Is he gonna show up to my place with his gun?”

“I... He didn't say. I don't think so. He did threaten to murder you, but he talked about strangling me at one point, so I wouldn't trust him on that.”

“Great,” Derek says flatly.

“Apparently I am grounded forever, too.”

“Well I didn't know how to get rid of you, this was my master plan all along.”

“You suck.”

Derek hangs up, and Stiles laughs.

 

-

 

Derek is sitting on his couch, reading a book Deaton said would be useful to them in the future (“Always so freaking cryptic, man,” Stiles had said), with Stiles next to him, playing video games with Scott, sitting at the edge of the comfy chair. Stiles is not sitting that far but they're not touching. Scott swears and Stiles whoops.

“I won again, motherfucker!”

“You cheated.”

“This is not a card game, I can't cheat! The PS3 never lies, Scotty.”

Scott mumbles something about stupid wolf powers that are utterly useless before announcing he wants to play again.

“Fine, but let's take a break before, though. I'm gonna grab some stuff to eat,” Stiles says, getting up to make his way to the open space kitchen. Derek looks up from the weird looking art spread on the pages of the book and calls out, “Bring back some Coke.”

“I am not your slave,” Stiles calls back from where his head his buried inside the fridge.

“You're already up. And in the kitchen. And this my food you're going to eat. Bring me some Coke, Stiles.”

Scott's eyes keep going back and forth between the two of them, like he's witnessing some sort of miraculous wonder.

“Ugh, fiiine. Hey where's the lasagne?”

“It's 3pm, you're not eating lasagne. It's gone anyway,” Derek grumbles, annoyed.

“What!” Stiles exclaims, plucking his head out of the fridge. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean I ate it. Cause it was in my fridge. Cause it was mine. Cause I baked it. For me.”

“You monster.”

“Are you sure you're not dating?” Scott finally pipes up from where he's sitting sheepishly, nervously toying with his controller.

Both Stiles and Derek turn their attention to him in one sharp synchronized movement.

“Yes,” they both say in unison. Then, they share a look and say, “we're sure.”

Scott shudders dramatically and declares, “You're so creepy. Both of you.”

“Don't forget my Coke,” Derek says with a tone of finality.

 

-

 

He can't believe he's doing this again. Dress shopping. For prom this time. How did this happen? Why? How? Why? He's looking morosely at the little heap of dresses Lydia piled up in his arms. Allison comes up behind him and kisses his cheek. He feels his face go a little red.

“You look so miserable.”

“I am.”

“Don't tell Lydia I said that, but she's insane. She made me try on sixteen different dresses. Sixteen.”

Satan chooses this moment to come out of the changing room. She beams at them and does a little twirl.

“So, what d'ya think?”

“You're beautiful,” Stiles says immediately, because it's true.

“I like it,” Allison smiles.

“You're both wrong,” Lydia snaps, her fake smile dropping. “This is clearly not the dress for me, look at the color! It clashes with my hair, and the top squashes my boobs.”

“I think your boobs are fine,” Stiles says automatically.

“Stop.”

Allison shakes her head and hides a smile.

“Look, Lydia, if you know better than us why do you go through all this trouble of trying them on to show us? Just pick the best one,” Allison sighs. “I wanna go eat something.”

“You're not eating before tonight if you want to fit in your dress,” Lydia sing songs.

“You're right,” Allison replies, to Stiles's surprise.

Satisfied, Lydia goes back inside the changing room with a sharp smile.

“Let's run away now, she'll never catch us. I'm starving,” Allison promptly whispers in his ear.

“I don't know, I'm scared of her,” he says, suppressing a laugh. “And we haven't picked my outfit yet.”

“You're a coward.”

 

A few hours later, Lydia finally picks both her and Stiles's outfit. She wants them to match.

“If we're going to go together, this won't be like last year at the Winter Formal, you'll be classy,” she declares.

Stiles just goes along with it, and nods emphatically everytime she so much as looks his way. Just in case. Allison actually stomps her feet and threatens to have a full on meltdown around lunchtime.

“Lydia, I swear to God, I will destroy the mall if you don't let me eat something.”

“Oh okay, wow,” Stiles blinks a little alarmingly, “nobody is going to destroy anything. You girls are terrifying.”

“Oh my God, fine!” Lydia yells over Stiles's voice, “Let's go stuff our faces! See if I care!”

 

They find a quiet and comfortable corner at Starbucks, and she ends up eating more than both Stiles and Allison combined.

“I don't wanna hear _one_ word,” she threatens, pointing a finger at them, still chewing on her sandwich.

Stiles pointedly avoids looking at Allison for fear of bursting out laughing.

“Stiles, your phone's ringing,” Allison says distractedly a few minutes later, licking her fingers clean of the chocolate muffin she just ate.

He flails a bit and inefficiently digs his phone out of his pocket, almost knocking his coffee over. He looks at the caller ID and suppresses a smile. Both Allison and Lydia lean in a little to see who's calling him. When Allison reads the name, she schools her features into a very neutral expression whereas Lydia just smirks.

“What?” Stiles says curtly when he picks up.

Lydia glances at Allison furtively, and Stiles can almost hear the very quick and silent conversation that takes place before his eyes. _“Is he always talking to Derek like that?”._ Allison rolls her eyes and her shoulders go up a little _“Yes, they're weird.”_

“Where are you?”

“At the mall, being tortured by two very beautiful creatures.”

Lydia preens and Allison punches his arm.

“Did Lydia choose your outfit yet?”

“Yep.”

“Is it extremely uncomfortable and itchy?”

“Why do you sound like you're enjoying this?”

“You coming over tonight?” Derek asks offhandedly, ignoring the last remark.

“You want me to?” Stiles replies in the same tone of voice.

“Not really, but I can't seem to get rid of you so... I thought I'd go along with it.”

“Fine, sure. Whatever.”

Stiles hangs up on him. Feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. He grins at his friends, who look a bit worried.

“Everything okay?” Allison wants to know.

“Yeah, I'm going at Derek's tonight, I can't hang out with you guys, sorry.”

“It sounded like you were mad,” Lydia says, playing with the straw of her drink.

“He's not mad, that's just how they talk,” Allison provides, before Stiles can say anything.

 

-

 

Stiles doesn't knock on the door and lets himself in. He is rewarded for his rudeness by catching a glimpse of Derek's naked chest, as he's in the process of putting his favorite a-shirt on.

“Isaac here?”

Derek tugs at the hem of his tank top, bringing it all the way down over his stomach, and shakes his head. He looks unperturbed by Stiles's intrusion.

“Boyd and Erica?”

“They went to a movie.”

Stiles steps into the loft and flops down on the couch ungracefully.

“Good.”

Derek bends down to kiss him lightly on the lips before retreating to the kitchen.

“I made lasagne.”

Stiles knows Derek can't see him so he smiles big and bites his lip. When he thinks his voice will sound normal, he says, “Damn right you did.”

 

An hour later they're both sitting on the couch, knees barely touching. Stiles is watching a TV program about toddlers and crowns or something, he doesn't even know, and Derek is still engrossed in his weird magic book. He accidentally bumps his knee against Derek's, who doesn't even reacts, and suddenly seized by some crazy urge, turns toward him and swings one leg over his body, straddling his thighs. The book goes tumbling to the floor.

“You're bored.” Derek notes flatly.

“You're more interesting than TV, tonight.”

“You made me lose my place in the book.”

Stiles kisses him lightly, then whispers “Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Derek replies a little out of breath, before going in for another kiss. Stiles treads his fingers through Derek's hair, then back down along his neck, and still down against his chest. He loves it best when Derek lets him rest his hand against his heart; he likes to feel when the beat goes faster. He knows the little noise he's about to make – this one – makes Derek go restless. Right on cue, the heartbeat increases and Stiles smiles. He feels Derek's hands roaming on his back, sometimes settling on his hips, tracing chaotic patterns with his thumbs. He ducks in for another kiss, licks Derek's lips open, and sighs happily. It makes him feel weirdly satisfied, like drinking a tall glass of water in the summer. When he finally breaks the kiss, he doesn't move his face away.

“You made me lasagne,” he says, lips brushing Derek's.

“Was it good?” Derek asks, and Stiles can feel his breath ghosting against his lips too.

“I've had better.”

“Really,” he says like he's not really listening. His eyes do not leave Stiles's neck.

Stiles kisses his lips, then the place just under his right eye, then his nose. Then he pointedly looks away from Derek and elongates his neck in a way that could look incidental, but really, they both know better. Derek instantly buries his face in the crook of his neck before placing three feather-light kisses from under his jaw down to his exposed collarbone. It makes Stiles's skin tingle and chills travel down his spine. Then, it's a little more heated, with open kisses, wet kisses, biting kisses. Stiles can feel every inch of Derek's tongue on this sensible patch of skin. His heart starts pumping more blood, and his lungs work faster in answer, he closes his eyes and sighs. The sighs turn into sharp intakes of breaths, and he has to grab Derek's face back into his hands before kissing him a little less gently, biting his lower lip to elicit a sound from Derek. Derek moans a little – that sound – out of pain or something else, Stiles doesn't care because it's beautiful.

“You know, if it weren't for us walking on you two making out like porn stars...” Boyd starts, interrupting them.

“...We'd think you actually hate each other and the whole dating thing is actually some large-scale joke,” Erica finishes.

They're both standing at the door, they're still wearing their jackets and the keys of the loft are dangling from Boyd's hands. Movie night is over, apparently.

 

Stiles flushes a little and gets off Derek's lap, sitting as far away from him as possible. Derek calmly picks his book off the floor and carries on with his reading. Scott pushes past Erica and Boyd and heads straight for the kitchen.

“But haven't you heard? _They're not dating_ ,” he says in a mocking tone, like he knows better. Erica snorts and Boyd smirks. Well fuck them.

 

-

 

“So, I thought, maybe... we could, like... hang out, or something?”

Stiles is standing in the empty hallway of Beacon Hills High, trying his best to appear calm and collected. There's this cute girl standing in front of him, and she nervously plays with a strand of her hair, and bites her lip, and he momentarily forgets what she was saying.

“Hang out!” he shouts after a moment too long, trying to tune back in. She jerks back, a little surprised, but recovers quickly when Stiles goes on, “Uh, I mean. Yeah. I mean, no. I mean why?”

She giggles, and Stiles doesn't understand because he's making an ass of himself.

“You're cute.”

He flushes and tries really hard not to preen. Damn right he's cute.

“Why, thank you. You are a woman of fine taste.”

“So there's this party on Saturday...” she almost makes it sound like a question.

Saturday. He's hanging out with Derek on Saturday. Suddenly, and quite stupidly, he understands that he's being flirted with and he flushes even more. How do you turn down a girl that cute, oh my God. Why does he have to turn her down? Derek is ruining his life. Clearly.

“Uh, I can't on Saturday... I have this... thing.”

Great work.

“This thing?” she presses on, clearly not about to give up.

He sighs heavily. He scratches his forehead. He could literally say anything. Anything to get out of this situation. He could be vague. Hell, he could lie. Who would know? But what comes of his mouth is this:

“I'm spending the weekend with my boyfriend, sorry.”

She smiles and ducks her head with an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh, okay then. Well, have fun, I guess. Maybe I'll see the two of you at the party though?”

And with that she walks away with a small wave. Stiles doesn't even have the time to breathe out before Scott makes him jump ten feet in the air by slapping his back.

“Oh my God, don't do that! I almost had a heart attack, where the hell did you come from?”

“So you're spending the weekend with your boyfriend?” Scott repeats, completely ignoring him, before whining, "Stiles, do I know him? Why didn't you introduce us? Why, Stiles?”

“You're a dick, and I hate you.”

“Oh, did you mean Derek Hale? The guy you're not dating?” Scott goes on, fake-gasping and bringing a hand in front of his mouth.

Stiles shoves him away and tries to school his expression into a neutral one.

“Does he know you're using the word 'boyfriend' when you talk about him?” Scott smirks.

“I thought we were _friends_ , dude.”

“And I thought you were _single._  You know with the not-dating-anyone?”

“Oh my God,” Stiles laughs and walks away to his next class before Scott makes him even more uncomfortable.

 

-

 

Erica sends him a text that says _**“Congrats!”**_ , and he just ignores it because he thinks she might have had the wrong number. But then, a few hours later he receives a _**“Are you going to celebrate?”**_ from Lydia and now he's seriously confused. He walks out of his room and shouts down the stairs, “Dad, is this my birthday today or something? Is this Saint Stiles?”

He can hear the baseball game in the background.

“I don't care, leave me alone,” his father yells back, unfazed.

“Okay thanks!”

He texts both of them back with a question mark when the doorbell rings. He runs out of his room and almost trips down the stairs.

“I'll get it,” he pants, looking at where his dad has not made a move to get up from the couch. He opens the door and a very grumpy Derek steps in.

“Hi, Mr Stilinski.”

“Derek.”

“Why are you out of breath?” Derek asks, an eyebrow raised at Stiles.

“He was afraid I might open the door before him, kill you and drag your body to the woods or something,” the Sheriff declares matter of factly.

“I was not!”

“Okay, I don't care, let's go,” Derek says and steps right out again.

“Bye dad!” Stiles calls out behind him before closing the door. His father just waves him off with an air of utter disinterest. Baseball is serious business. Derek always comes during baseball games or when other sport thingies are happening on TV. Derek is clever.

 

When they're both seated in the Camaro, grumpy Derek checks his phone and gets grumpier.

“Do you know what today is?” he asks with a frown.

“Sunday?”

“No, like a special occasion.”

“Oh my God, is this your birthday? Is that why they sent me those texts? I'm sorry, I –”

Derek lifts a hand to cut him off and drives away from the house.

“No, no, not my birthday. So you don't know.”

Stiles winces.

“No?”

Derek sigh in relief after glancing at him sideways.

“Yeah, me neither. Lydia told me to buy you something, I thought it was _your_ birthday.”

“Wait, you received mysterious text messages too? ”

Derek nods.

“Well where's the thing you bought for me? Lydia says you have to buy me something, so buy me something.”

“I didn't buy you anything.”

“She is going to be pissed.”

“You'll just tell her I took you to the restaurant or something, okay?”

“You're so scared of her.”

Derek scowls, but doesn't deny it. Stiles's phone beeps twice. Erica and Lydia are ridiculously synchronized, he thinks. But he's wrong, the two new messages are from Scott and Allison respectively.

 

_**Still single after one year? I'm sad for you dude.** _

 

“When did Scott get so sassy, I swear, this is getting out of hand.”

 

_**Lydia told me, I'm really happy for you guys!** _

 

“Okay, dude, I feel like we're getting married and neither of us are aware of it. They're trying to tell us something here,” Stiles finally says after staring at all the texts three times in a row.

“You should ask Lydia what she means,” Derek says.

“No, you call her!”

“No way.”

“You –”

“She's going to yell at me,” Derek exclaims like he would about the end of the world.

“So you'd rather have her yell at me.”

“Yeah.”

“You're such an impressive Alpha, dude. Like, I don't even know how you manage that level of –”

“Just make the damn call.”

They pull up near the forest line. Derek likes to spend his Sundays around the woods. Stiles just goes along with it, usually.

“Heyyyy, Lydia. What's up?”

“I didn't think you'd call, I thought you were going to avoid this.”

Stiles looks at Derek with a drowning man expression on his face. Derek is obviously listening to Lydia's every word and shakes his head to signify he's as confused as he is.

“Uh, yeah, no. I actually wanted to know what you meant?”

“What do you mean?” she says with a huff of annoyance.

“Well, uh – your uh, congratulations?”

“Stiles, this isn't funny. I already texted Derek about your gift, don't worry. He won't forget.”

Silence. Stiles is still watching Derek closely for any indication that he understands what's happening.

“Uh, okay. Thanks?”

They both hang up and Derek has his thinking face on.

“She didn't yell.”

“That's because you were too scared to tell her you have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

“I say we call Isaac. He'll tell us, he won't yell, or mock us, or laugh.”

Derek does just that and puts the phone on speaker.

“Dude, really? It's your first year anniversary or something. Lydia said she didn't know the exact day the two of you got together, so she randomly picked the 28th. Said it was either that or the 30th. I don't even want to know how she came up with that. Anyway. It's been a year with Stiles, man. I can't believe the two of you didn't realize that. It's like you don't even care. Derek?”

“I'm still here.”

“Happy anniversary? Or whatever?”

“Thanks,” he grumbles before hanging up.

Stiles stares at him, and can't help but declare with an impressed tone, “I can't believe you tolerated me for one year, are you okay?”

“I don't know. Yes?”

“Okay. I'm okay too, by the way. I put up with your shit. Thanks for asking.”

Derek looks away and Stiles knows it's because he's smiling. They get out of the car and start walking randomly through the woods. Derek seems to know where he's going.

“So you _do_ have to buy me something!” Stiles blurts out after a while.

Derek frowns and crosses his arms.

“Why don't _you_ buy me stuff? I don't see why I should spend money on you.”

“I won't buy you shit cause I'm broke but I'll blow you.”

Derek uncrosses his arms and falters a bit, stammers and makes a frustrated sound.

“You suck.”

“Not yet! Pick a tree to lean on, we'll get started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, my God sorry for all the mistakes and typos that made their way through this. I always seem to start writing in the middle of the night, so yeah, exhaustion might cause bad grammar? WHATEVER I'M SORRY. (I'd be grateful to anyone pointing out my mistakes so I can edit those out! You can always reach me on [tumblr](http://yourunwiththewolves.tumblr.com) if you were so inclined.)


End file.
